Warping what?
by Sheitan
Summary: Aranea Highwind pays the Chocobros a visit and she seems to have a bone to pick with Ignis. What could be the reason for her bad mood? Crack-warning. Noctis is also in there, but he could not fit in the character list.


A/N: I do own FFXV.

* * *

 _Somewhere near Astor Slough._

You would think it was Prompto, but the freckled boy was actually much more tight-lipped in things that mattered than one would believe based on his never-ending stream of yip-yap. No, the real gossips in the kingly retinue were Gladiolus and Noctis. Which was probably why he had agreed to this, and why he inched closer instead of turning around when he heard the passionate moans.

* * *

It had all begun when they had another run-in with Magitech soldiers while hunting on the grassy slopes close to Astor Slough. Well, in truth, it had begun three weeks before that, but he had not been there so how was he to know?

At this point, there was a callous routine, even a kind of ruthless playfulness, to their dealings with the MT drones of the Empire. Their fighting prowess and teamwork had grown by leaps and bounds since they set out from Insomnia in what now seemed another lifetime, Noctis wielding his weapons with a natural fierceness and skill that Gladio would not have put down 5 Gil on being ever achievable, and even Prompto having somehow become a force of some deadliness while staying as scrawny as ever.

Gladiolus brings his greatsword down upon the head of a MT, cleaving the helmet and skull of the enemy, and frowns when the blade gets stuck in the bone. It was a rather sloppy cut. He quickly deconjures the blade and the soldier falls to the ground like a rag doll. Reforming the blade, he charges the next in line, reveling in the force of the swing, the heaviness of the blade as it slices through the air.

Out of corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of red. Spinning around, he realizes that it is a drop ship, red instead of black, hovering over the hill side.

Just what they need. Reinforcement.

However, he is surprised to see a lone figure jump from the open and flashes towards them like a dark lightning, and _slams_ into the nearest MT, instantly reducing it to a bubbling puddle of tainted magic.

The figures straightens, and _stir him and call him a cup noodle,_ it's the spiky female warrior they fought at the imperial base. A dragoon, he recalls, a very rare class of fighters. He knows that she has been helping the boys out lately, but she's still an imperial and he had not expected to see here, much less coming to their aid. Gladio looks to Ignis for instructions, but the royal advisor seems to be extremely busy assisting Noctis. If he didn't knew better, Gladio would say that he is deliberately ignoring the newcomer.

"Aranea!" It's Prompto, in between blasting a target in the head and judging a sword trust, and she nods at the freckled boy and Gladio takes his clue from that.

Between them, they make very short work of the MTs and as the corpses are evaporating around them, Noctis looks at Aranea: "Thanks a lot, Aranea, but I hadn't expected to see you again. Are you here on the Ardyn's orders?" Prompto looks around surreptitiously, as if he expects the meddling Chancellor to come jumping out from behind a rock.

"Nah, It's my threat," she replies with a mock salute, and continues, more serious: "The Empire's been cranking up the effort to bring you in. I don't find myself all that much in agreement with those efforts." She doesn't elaborate and Noctis looks at her a rather dubious expression. Gladio elbows Ignis, who's supposed to be the brains of the group, and he coughs and manages a perfectly logical statement about them needing all the help they can get, and that Aranea has been of much assistance before. The Shield agrees, although finding the whole situation slightly ludicrous. An imperial commander fighting the imperial army for the sake of a landless king? However, he has been informed that the dragoon was less than enthusiastic about the Empire's recent course of action, and she strikes him as a woman that does not seem overly burdened with idealism.

He decides to see how the situation develops.

"Aww, worried for us?" Prompto says.

"We can call it that," the dragoon replies, her eyes glittering behind the grill of her helmet. She reminds Gladio of a large cat, languid and yet ready to strike in the blink of an eye. And with the same I-don't-give-a-shit-attitude as well.

"What would you be able to tell us about the presence of imperial forces in the area?" Ignis asks carefully.

"Asking me to rat on my employers?" the dragoon says with a snicker. "Oh, well, who am I kidding. I'll have my men run a survey over the area, and in the meantime, I'll rat a bit."

And that's how they ended up having an imperial Commodore over for dinner. Turns out she cannot tell them a whole lot - her division has been redirected and she is not privy to intel about this area - but she can scan for the presence of MTs and chalk up the most likely patrol routes.

She doesn't like the Empire and she sure as hell does not like Chancellor Ardyn Izunia and his creepy ways. Gladiolus has a knack for reading people and he has a good feel about Aranea, she is refreshingly candid and absurdly skilled, things that he can straight out appreciate, and her moral compass seems to be aligned with theirs. Sure, he doesn't trust her, but hey, all the help they can get. Turns out later that she does have more selfish motives, though.

* * *

"So, your majesty, how do those warping powers of yours actually work?" Aranea says conversationally after dinner. She's sitting between Noctis and Gladiolus, cup of tea in hand and shapely legs stretched out in front of her. She has divested herself of some of her more spiky equipment and the firelight gilds the metallic material of her body armor, accentuation her voluptuous curves in way that draws the eye in the same way that a Gravity Well draws in enemies.

"It's actually not my powers," Noctis starts, and then pauses, his eyes straying to Ignis.

Ignis shifts in his chair. He is failing spectacularly in his duty as royal advisor tonight, and he is on his fourth cup of Ebony, which is unusual even for him and Gladio half-considers an intervention. The way he keeps fidgeting with his glasses and shifting his legs is completely out of character.

"I do think you can trust Aranea," he says and then gets up suddenly, muttering something about "checking on their stock of curatives". He takes the long route around the fire to get to the stacked supplies, and Gladio raises an eyebrow. Well, fuck! He's avoiding Aranea! Gladio grabs a beer from the cooler and leans back. Now, this is interesting. So, Aranea is not exactly what one would call "demure", but she's been perfectly civil to Ignis so far, and as far as he knows they got along pretty fine during the fetch and retrieve to Steyliff Grove, and Ignis is normally not flustered by the presence of cleavage, even one as overflowing as Aranea's.

Shrugging, Noctis begins to give Aranea the Line of Lucis 101 that is also taught in school, and Gladio tunes it out, turning to heckling Prompto about having a beer instead – the boy is allergic to alcohol – and suspects that Noctis probably enjoys talking about things are so familiar and important to him.

Ignis is scrambling around in the camp kitchen and Aranea raises her head and says: "Hey Specs, get me a refill?" She holds out her cup, and Ignis seems to freeze, and then says, in the most carefully polite voice: "Off course, would you prefer another leiden grey or a different taste?"

"You lug around different brands of tea while fleeing the Empire?" Aranea says in disbelief and Ignis' shoulders slump a bit and then he smiles. "I insist on maintaining at least a modicum of civility," he replies, indicating the well-stocked camp kitchen with a gloved hand.

"You're crazy," Aranea huffs, though there is a note of teasing in her voice. "Hit me," she says, shaking her cup and Ignis takes it and turns around to fill it from the pot of hot water on the stove.

"You know, the craziest thing is that none of us like tea that much," Prompto reflects.

"Barbarians," Ignis says without missing a beat, and everybody laughs.

"Gasp, you drink tea when Ebony is not looking?" Prompto goes on and Ignis pushed up his glasses, all but rolls his eyes and makes a remark about a gentleman needing to be knowledgeable in all matters of refinement.

"Gentleman, is it?" Aranea says, with a raised eyebrow.

"I - like to think of myself as one," Ignis says with a hint of embarrassment as he hands her the steaming mug, the label hanging over the edge announcing it to be Insomnian black mint.

Aranea let her eyes rest on the royal advisor for a moment longer, then she takes a sip of her tea and goes back talking with Noctis.

Ignis hoovers at the camp kitchen for a moment, and then pours himself another cup of coffee - making it his fifth of the night and he's gonna have a fucking heart attack, but worry not, Gladio is pretty good at thumping chests, and he cracks his knuckles just in case.

He sets a light banter with Prompto and drags Ignis into a rather nonsensical discussion about the merits of speed versus strength in battle, an old bone they have worried to death countless times before.

Prompto, as the only of them really good with guns, often ends up being side-lined, because Ignis and Gladio can at least agree on that blades are better than bullets, and the freckled boy normally appeals to Noctis, who is kinda the jack of all trades, master of none. Noctis, however, is now talking in a hushed tone with Aranea, so Prompto is on his own.

"I – yes, that should be possible, but I have never heard of it done. You normally have to channel the magic through an object, like a weapon," Noctis says and Aranea looks fiercely satisfied. And then pissed.

"I see. Thanks for clarifying that." Her tone is clipped. Without warning, she turns around and stares straight at Ignis, her grey eyes narrow and so intense that Prompto scuttles to the side and out of the line of fire. Poor Ignis tries to ignore the openly hostile dragoon, studying his coffee intensely as conversation grounds to a halt.

"Uhm yeah, anyone for a game of King's Knight?" Prompto quips up when the tension stretches unbearably.

Noctis nods, checking his phone. "I'm in but I have to charge my phone."

"Right!" Prompto jumps up and he and Noctis head for the tent, where the portable charger has been placed.

Gladio takes a swig of his beer and let his eyes wander furtively from Ignis to Aranea, mentally running over what he heard - mostly from Prompto who has swan-dived into another crush – about how the dragoon had escorted them through the dungeon to obtain the needed mythril ore. He got an earful about her fighting prowess and looks – both things he can confirm as true – but not anything that could explain her hostile attitude towards Ignis. Honestly, she behaves like a slighted lover, but for fuck's sake, this is Ignis! Aranea is sexy, badmouthed and self-assured and Ignis is the most proper, stuck-up, "never-a-wrinkle-in-his-shirts"-man in all of Insomnia. Despite his best efforts in harassing the bespectacled man, Gladio isn't even sure if Ignis has ever reached first base with anyone, heck if he has even been let into the stadium. He seems to have settled for food porn.

Maybe the tea was bitter.

Aranea has now crossed her arms and seems to be grinding her teeth. The frustration coming of her is so thick Gladio doubts he could cut through it with a Dawnhammer strike. On the other side of the fire, Ignis looks like he is going through a discreet case of angina. Definitely something with the heart.

"Hey, Aranea, want a beer?" Gladio deadpans, pulling another bottle from the cooler next to him.

Aranea turns, rubbing her face.

"Shiva's ass, yes," she says with exasperation, and reaches for the proffered bottle. Suddenly, she scrunches up her face, and retracts her hand.

"Okay, that's it," she grounds out, and abruptly stands. Walking around the fire, she stops in front of Ignis, arms crossed, glaring down at him.

"Specs, we need to talk." It is not a request.

Ignis looks up at her, his expression apprehensive. Then he squares his shoulders, nods and rises. Gladio thinks he looks a bit pale, even though it is hard to tell in the flickering light from the fire.

Aranea turns to Gladio. "Gonna borrow Iggy here for a moment. Don't worry, you'll get him back in one piece."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," the Shield replies.

Aranea resolutely grabs the advisor by the arm and begins to briskly walk away from the fire, dragging him behind her. Ignis shoots a slightly wild, pleading look at Gladio, who just shrugs and holds out his hands, not making any effort to hide his amusement. _Sorry, Iggy, you are on your own._

* * *

Approximately two seconds later, the zipper of the tent is opened and Prompto sticks his head out.

"What was that about?" he exclaims, and then clasps a hand to his mouth.

"Well, if you had the guts to stay around instead of eavesdropping, you could have asked," Gladio remarks.

Prompto crawls out of the tent with a sheepish impression, followed by Noctis.

"As if," he says, his voice lowered. "I don't want to be on the receiving end of her lance."

"What the fuck happened between her and Iggy in Steyliff Groove? She was really worked up."

"Happened? You mean…like romantic?" Prompto asks, blue eyes widening.

"I don't think they did anything," Noctis remarks.

"There was that night they stayed up after we went to bed, Aranea had the first shift, but it seemed pretty normal, you know, Ignis talking about coffee?" Prompto says, sounding unconvinced.

"I didn't notice."

"Noct, you sleep like the dead," Gladio cuts in with a grin, "you wouldn't have noticed if they had sex right next to you."

"I did not need that picture in my head!" Prompto exclaims, forgetting to keep his voice down.

Noctis scratches the back of his neck. "I think I would have noticed _that_ ," he says slowly.

Gladio laughs out loud. "You might get a chance to prove it." He honestly doesn't want to hazard a guess about what the Commodore and Ignis are off doing, he might have stolen her favorite recipe for all he knows, but he cannot resist an opportunity to poke a bit of fun at his King.

"Yeah, or not," Noctis mutters.

* * *

The almost trivial roar of a Red Giant rumbles through the night, sparing Noctis' another verbal jab. They all look in the direction of the sound, and hey, there it is, a reddish glow moving between the trees and up the hill towards them. Gladiolus takes another mouthful of his beer. He is alert, but not overly worried. The warding runes normally shield their presence from daemons, but it might have picked up the scent of Aranea and Ignis.

But Ignis is a more than capable fighter, and Aranea is a fucking storm of pain. He would put top Gil down on her being able to take down that daemon without breaking into a sweat. So no, he is not worried. Then Noctis turns and looks at him with a decidedly sly expression.

"You know, Aranea is an imperial..."

"Hey, not fair, Noct, she helped us out, and she's really nice!" Prompto protests.

"She has been of help so far, but can we really trust her?" Noctis continues, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone.

Gladio opens his mouth to ask what the king is driving at, and then his brain catches up. It's not something he lets on, but Noctis is quite nosy. A regular gossip-sponge.

Well, Gladio is not above listening to a little gossip himself, and he is Astraldamn curious about what is going on.

"I would say that was some pretty suspicious behavior."

"Mmm-hm! I think someone should go check out if Ignis is not in any kind of … danger."

"Are you guys sure that's a good idea? I mean, angry Aranea." Prompto interjects.

"It might be worth it," Gladio says with a grin and winks at the younger man.

Prompto just blushes. "All right, it wouldn't do to disobey my King," Gladio says and stands, downing the last of the beer.

I want a full report," Noctis says with finality.

* * *

As he follows the rocky path into the night, Gladiolus belatedly realizes that Aranea has done a very good job at putting them at a severe disadvantage if she wanted to fuck them over. With very little effort, she has distracted them and split them up. Oldest trick in the book. He gives her a mental commendation and himself a mental kick in the balls for being so lax. Noctis' safety is his fucking responsibility. Cor would have his hide for letting his guard down like this. He briefly considers going back, but decides to check on Ignis first. Aranea's anger was quite convincing and he's pretty sure the only one she for some unfathomable reason wants to fuck over is Ignis. And that means he's not spying, he's going recon. Yeah. That's it.

When he reached the grassy ground at the base of the Haven, he stops and looks around. The warding runes cast a bluish glow over the landscape, but he cannot spot anything resembling an irate imperial or an anxious advisor. He doesn't think they have gone far, though, eyeing the pacing Giant.

He listens intently and there! Above the noise of the Giant, he catches what sounds suspiciously like moans and grunts, and not from pain. _You have got to be shitting me!_ The sounds are coming from his left, behind an outcropping of rocks. Making up some half-assed story about having to take a piss, just in case, he sneaks closer.

* * *

Given the sight that awaits him as he peeks around the rocks, it is probably good they did not send Prompto. He would have flailed about like a headless chocobo. And even though Gladio kinda had a suspicion, going by the sounds, he is still utterly dumbfounded. Frozen on the spot, for one terrible second he thinks that Aranea has seen him. Her face is turned right at him, but then he realizes that her eyes are closed and that she would probably not have noticed him even if they were open. Her face is wild with rapture, mouth half open and breath heavy. She is the very picture of sexual abandon, and some sadistic god has made sure her face is all that he can see, her body blocked from view by Ignis' back as he has the dragoon pinned up against the mossy stones, his pants are down around his hips and Aranea's legs are wrapped around his waist, black boots crossed like swords. Ignis thrusts erratically and Aranea's braids bounce with each upwards drive.

"Aaah - yees - harder!" Aranea throws back her head with a low keen, breaking the spell, and Gladiolus backtracks like he's on fire, slamming himself against the other side of the outcropping.

Well, it's pretty fucking obvious that Ignis is in no immediate danger – and that Aranea did not want to fuck him over, just fuck him. But what the actual fuck? Ignis. Ignis is humping Aranea, Imperial Commodore and all around hot as Ravatogh, up against a rock in the great outdoors. Gladio feels like he has stepped into some reality just south of anything that makes sense.

He resists a sudden urge to laugh very loud and heartily. He's fond of Ignis, the man is capable and trustworthy and not bad company, but such a _stiff_ and it looks like he finally founds someone that can get a rise out of him, literally. Noctis is gonna freak out when he hears about this. Because there is no way – _no way_ – that he's going to keep quiet about this.

Aranea lets out a moan so loud he's sure he doesn't have to anyways, and a moment later he can hear Ignis' deeper groan of pleasure, and then there is silence, and he tries to herd his thoughts in the same direction and move out of there. He's got his gossip, he has no real intention in being privy to the couple's intimacy.

"I'm still going to kill you, Specs," Aranea then says, her voice is breathy and full of the remnants of passion, but there is also a streak of hostility so clear that it stirs Gladio's protective instincts.

Ignis clearly also hears the latent threat, because judging by Aranea's yelp, he's dropped her to the ground.

"Whatever have I done to offend you, Aranea?" Ignis grinds out and he is genuinely pissed off, angry enough to smash something. Gladio has never heard him like this before, and he forgets all about sneaking back to camp, because this is simply too good to miss (and he is not free from feeling a little bit worried for Iggy. Those boots are certified lethal weapons).

He dares peek around the rocks again, and Ignis is fumbling with his pants, while Aranea is glaring at him, not paying much attention to her own disheveled appearance (Ignis is still blocking the view).

"A lot," the dragoon says. "More than enough."

Ignis tightens his belt and crosses his arms. Even in the darkness, Gladio has no problem identifying his stance. It's the same he uses when Noctis refuses to eat a dish that took several hours to cook, or that time Prompto got behind the wheel. However, he has never seen the advisor so obviously close to a melt-down. This truly is a day of firsts.

"I never lied to you. I meant each word I said to you." Ignis pauses and then adds, stonily: "I suppose this means you were not equally honest."

"Oh, for…!" Aranea throws out her arms and moves to the side, into Gladio's line of sight, and sweet fucking Astrals, her breasts are just as big and perfect as her tight armor hinted at.

"Do you think all recruits get a roll in the hay?" she hisses. She closes the fastenings of her top, unfortunately hiding those delicious mounds from sight.

"It was far from my intent to imply -," Ignis protests, turning to face her, so Gladio can now see his face in profile.

Aranea steps up to him, hands on hips. "One day, I'll have to go digging for that stick you got up your ass," she says wryly. "Listen, I _like_ you, stick and all, but this has gotten a bit more complicated than enemies with benefits. It's the warping. You should come with a fucking huge warning sticker wrapped around your dick."

Ignis looks like a question mark carved out of confusion. It's too genuine to be faked, and Ignis is the worlds' worst actor, and Aranea also seems to pick up on that, because she pauses and some of the air seems to go out of her: "Damn, you really don't have a clue. Damn. Okay, look, it just doesn't make sense otherwise. Niff tech is pretty reliable all around. And I'm going to keep it, just you know. Fucking world is going to hell and I figure there's never going to a perfect time anyways."

"Aranea, please tell me what you are rambling about," Ignis says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Aranea smiles, a strange, soft and sharp smile that screams DANGER to such a degree that Gladio nearly says to hell with discretion and prepares to grab Ignis and haul him to safety. Then she leans in and whispers something in Ignis' ear and Ignis blinks and stares at her, then blinks again and all but yells: "What do you mean by warping sperm?!"

Gladio can actually hear the exclamation marks, and shock is probably all that keeps him from erupting into absolutely hysterical giggling on the spot.

But he's an elite warrior, he has passed the Blademaster's test, and he manages to keep his teeth together, turn around and walk away. Fast. He's got it all figured out anyways.

* * *

To blow of some steam and be sure he can face the rest of the group with something akin to composure Gladio goes and kills the Red Giant before he returns to camp. He does break into a sweat, and it helps a bit. He actually tries to keep it under wraps, even when Ignis and Aranea sneaks back into camp sometime later, looking halfway decent, having apparently settled for a truce, but blows it all when he sees Ignis all prim and proper and back to normal the next morning, greeting him with a "you are gonna be a great dad, Iggy. I mean, you are already best mom!' Which causes Ignis to nearly choke on his beloved Ebony and Aranea has to slap him on the back repeatedly while she glares at Gladio like she can't decide if she wants to strangle him or high-five him. She settles for smooching Ignis as soon as he can breathe again, while the camp descends into chaos around them. She's just rolls her eyes and leaves not long after, because she still has her duty, at least on paper. "You can have him, for now," she says with a smirk, throwing Ignis to the couerls that used to be his friends, and promises to be in touch as soon as they stop behaving like a kindergarten on drugs.

* * *

Which does take some time. Gladio and Prompto get funny tics each time they as much as look at Ignis for the next few days, which has a severely negative effect on the quality of his cooking, and when someone who might be Prompto yells "weaponized penis" when Ignis does a spectacular downward thrust with his lance, the advisor actually walks out on the battle, fucking walks out, and only rejoins the party when a red-faced and stammering Prompto has profusely apologized and added that he thinks Ignis will be an amazing mo – dad, I mean dad! Which makes Ignis go strangely misty-eyed and distant, and it's pretty obvious that he's not unhappy with what life has thrown at him. Just _please_ stop talking about his penis.

And Noctis? Noctis is absolutely in denial, vehemently refusing that any of Aranea's conjectures have an ounce of truth to them, while on the inside, he is panicking, _dying!_ because he has some dim recollections of his father having That. Talk. with him years ago and about burying some information about the Crystal and propagation and Astrals in a deep, dark recess of his mind. And when the insanity dies down and Ignis regains his power of deduction, he'll figure out that Noctis is lying. And Noctis would rather eat all his veggies from now and until forever than having that confrontation. But ok, babies are cute, and Aranea is cool and he thinks she is good for Ignis, even if she is an imperial, and the world is getting darker, so every bit of brightness counts.

Of course, that was before they got to Altissia and everything truly went to Hell.

* * *

Yay, my first FFXV fic, and it's a mess :D


End file.
